


blessings

by theoreticlove



Series: the sunset glows [9]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arguments, Blessings, F/M, M/M, courting, i swear like half my fics have that tag now, pregnancy announcement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 14:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoreticlove/pseuds/theoreticlove
Summary: caranthir asks ilvanë to officially court him. however, he needs glorfindel and ecthelion’s blessings.





	1. yes

The weight of the necklace felt heavy in Caranthir’s pocket. He had slaved over it, spent hours in the forge, desperate for it to be perfect. He wished, as he sometimes did, that he had his father’s skill in the forge, or even his brother’s or his nephew’s. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been trained; he had, and considered himself decent at it. It was simply that the necklace was a gift for his beloved Ilvanë, and anything less than perfection certainly would not do.

She had arranged to meet with him in the market today and so he was headed there, guided by the growing scent of spices and roasting meat. He smiled. If he knew Ilvanë well, they would not stay in the center of the market for long. In the heat of the summer, she would likely drag him off to some quiet shop, in the shade, where they would buy fruit juices or cold, flavour infused tea and sip them together while talking. Rather, while Ilvanë talked. She would go on about her dancing or the little garden she had started, telling him about her partners and how well the green plants were growing. Of course, on occasion Caranthir would comment, or add his own thoughts on whatever she wanted him to voice them on, but in truth he preferred to listen to her. He thought her voice was the loveliest sound in the world, perhaps second only to her laugh. 

“Moryo!” She called when she saw him, and he turned to find her, smiling when he did. Her curls bounced as she ran over to him, and she smelled like basil when she hugged him. 

“Hello, Ilvanë,” he said. They had been meeting up for several months now, to talk and to get to know each other. Caranthir, despite himself, wished for more, hence the necklace. He knew that Ilvanë deserved much better than him, and yet he was drawn to her in a way that no one had ever drawn him in before. He felt so deeply for her, would do anything to see her smile or make her happy. He wished to court her, to marry her, to spend the rest of his time listening to her speak, watching her eyes light up as she rambled on about her favourite type of dress material or the different patterns on the leaves of her plants. 

“Come with me, Moryo,” she said, taking his hand. “I’ve found a wonderful new shop, they have the most delicious tea, hibiscus, I think. You’ll love it!”

Caranthir laughed as she lead him along, weaving their way through the crowd. The large amounts of people gradually got smaller, until there were only maybe twenty people in the area. Ilvanë pulled him into a small shop, with wooden walls and a blue sign saying Lilotië’s Tea. They walked in, and Ilvanë proposed that she would get their drinks and Caranthir might save them a table. He agreed, and luck had it that he found a free table which would seat two, right by a window where the light would filter in. He sat, and waited, thinking of the necklace in his pocket. For all he had worked to make it perfect, he had not quite figured out the very small detail of how he might actually give it to her. 

“Oh, Moryo, you look so distressed! What troubles you?” Ilvanë asked as she neared him, sitting down across from him and setting their drinks down. 

“Nothing troubles me, Ilvanë,” he said, smiling at her as he picked up his drink, taking a small sip. She was right, as always- it was delicious. 

They sat in companionable silence for a while, as Ilvanë quite loved her drink and Caranthir loved to look at Ilvanë. He always seemed to think that she could not get more beautiful, but every time he saw her, she was even more beautiful than the last time. Her skin shone in the light of the window and she smiled at him between sips. She was without a doubt lovelier than even the most beautiful of the Vanyar, perhaps even more beautiful than Varda herself.

Eventually, he could bear it no longer. 

“I have something for you,” he said, taking the box that contained the necklace out of her pocket and holding it in front of him.

“Oh?” She said, eyes lit with anticipation. 

He nodded and opened the box. The necklace inside was golden, and a single green jewel rested in the center of the box, green like the colour of a wet leaf in the sun. The colour that Ilvanë, the week prior, had claimed as her favourite of all colours. It had taken him days to make an artificial jewel that was the right colour. 

“Oh, Moryo…” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

Caranthir took the necklace out of the box, moving to stand behind Ilvanë.

“May I?” He asked. She nodded, and carefully he swept her hair to the side, draping the necklace over her collarbone and fastening in. As he had predicted, she looked stunning. 

“I love it,” she whispered. 

“Ilvanë, will you agree to court me?” He blurted, and Ilvanë gasped once more She stood, and flung himself into his arms. 

“Oh, yes, Moryo! Yes! Of course, you’ll have to ask my fathers’ blessing before we make anything official, but yes! I would love nothing more.”

He smiled and spun her around. She had said yes and it was all that mattered.


	2. no

“No. Absolutely not,” said Ecthelion. “It’s not happening.”

“It’s not up to us. If Caranthir makes Ilvanë happy, why not give our blessing?”

“And entrust our baby daughter to a murderer? Have you lost your mind?” 

“Last I checked, you participated in the first kinslaying and I still married you.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“You know exactly how. I didn’t know what was going on and jumped in to defend my kin, thinking that they were the ones who were being slaughtered. He, on the other hand, began the fight! And he participated in the second kinslaying, which he also helped begin! He is a murderer!”

“He is reformed.”

“I don’t care if he says he is reformed. He’s not getting my blessing to court our only daughter.”

“She might court him anyway.”

“Then that’s her decision! But they asked for my blessing and yours, and they’re not getting mine. Over my dead body.”

Ilvanë could practically feel her father flinch through the door. She sat next to Moryo on the couch, his whole body tense when she leaned against him. Her fathers had been arguing in the study for half an hour now, with no signs of them stopping. All because Ilvanë had decided that Caranthir would be her great love. She hated that they fought over it. It wasn’t fair; Caranthir had been trying for years to prove he was a better man than before. She hadn’t even been born, during that before. Why should her happiness be taken away because he made mistakes several thousand years ago?

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Caranthir as she put her head against his shoulder. “I wish- I wish for you I could be a different man. One who would not make your parents argue like this.”

Caranthir had always felt guilty about his actions from the First Age and even before then. The kinslayings, the fighting, the murders he had committed haunted him. Ilvanë knew that he would hold the opinions of him from anyone to be true, if the kinslayings were concerned. Including Ecthelion’s.

“I don’t want you to be a different man. I want you to be my Moryo,” she told him, kissing his jaw softly. He sighed.

Both flinched as Ecthelion slammed the door to the study, angrily walked out the door of the house and slammed the front door behind him. The other room, where Glorfindel was, was quiet for a few minutes, before Ilvanë’s father stepped out and sighed down at her and Caranthir. 

“Morifinwë,” he said, beckoning Caranthir over. Caranthir stood, moving in front of him, ramrod straight.

“My Lord,” Caranthir replied.

“You have come to ask for my blessing to court my daughter. You have it, in the condition that I can be certain you will treat her well and with respect. I won’t ask you to swear an-”

“Lord Glorfindel, I swear to you to always strive to do my best regarding your daughter. To the best of my abilities, I will treat Ilvanë with love and respect. I cannot swear that I will never make a mistake, but when I do, I swear to do all in my power to rectify it. I swear to always do my best to make Ilvanë happy and to fulfill her desires. I name as witness to my vow Varda Elentari and Ilvanë herself.”

Glorfindel blinked and Ilvanë gasped in shock. She knew he loved her, but to hear him, son of Fëanor, cursed by another oath, swear to her was beyond her wildest dreams. She felt her heart swell with love for Moryo. He was the only one for her.

“You have my blessing, then, Moryo. I look forward to calling you a son one day. My husband, unfortunately, may need a little more convincing. I’ll talk to him.”

Moryo smiled almost wider than Ilvanë had ever seen. 

“Thank you, my lord,” he said, and shook his hand. Then, he turned to Ilvanë and she flung himself into his arms. He laughed as he spun her around, and Ilvanë cherished the sound. He did not laugh nearly enough, in her opinion. 

Her father would come around, she hoped. If not, she would go behind his back. She loved Moryo, with or without his blessing, and that was her own final decision.


	3. maybe so

Caranthir stood on the path back to inner Tirion, gazing out at the sunset. The oranges of the setting sun made the city appear alight, glowing almost. He was mesmerised by the sight, and suddenly realised how much he had missed Tirion, when he lived in Beleriand. He was home now, though.

Home, and headed back from his dearest Ilvanë’s house. She had invited him for tea, and it was the first time they had spent alone together since they had received her father, Glorfindel,’s permission to court. He had been over the moon, but also trying to plan out how he would convince Ecthelion, Ilvanë’s other father, to give his blessing, too.

As if on cue, Ecthelion slammed into him and fell to the ground.

“What the-,” Ecthelion said, blinking as he became more aware of his surroundings. “Oh,” he said as he saw Caranthir.

“I’m so sorry,” said Caranthir, holding out a hand to help him up. Begrudgingly, judging by the expression on his face, Ecthelion took it, a hand on his stomach as he pulled himself up.

They stood in silence for a bit, Caranthir not entirely sure of what to say. He wondered if he should broach the topic of courting, but decided that perhaps it would be best not to. Ecthelion had not, after all, consented to speak with him. It would not do to offend him while trying to win him over.

“Morifinwë Carnistir.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Have you been visiting my daughter?”

Caranthir hesitated.

“Yes, my lord.”

Ecthelion’s mouth twisted, his displeasure evident.

“There was no impropriety, my lord. We only had tea,” Caranthir said, rushing to reassure him. “No harm has come to Ilvanë in my presence, sir.”

“It is not that I fear harm will come to her in your presence,” Ecthelion said, sighing. “It is that I believe you will leave. Your father left your mother. Your brothers left their wives. Curufin even dragged his extremely young son away from his mother. And I do not-,” he said, and tears filled his eyes. “I do not want to pick up the pieces of my child’s heart when you leave, too.”

Ecthelion wiped tears from his eyes, and Caranthir felt cold, suddenly. The thought of leaving Ilvanë had never occurred to him. The thought of not being with her was unbearable. And Ecthelion, always stoic and never overly emotional, was crying. He must, Caranthir thought, feel certain that I am going to leave his daughter.

“I won’t leave her,” he promised.

“You can’t- how can you promise that? How can I believe you?” 

“I have already sworn to your husband, but I shall swear to you, also. Ecthelion, I swear to always be there for Ilvanë, and to stay by her side always, unless she herself turns me away. I name as witness to my vow both you yourself and Varda Elentári.”

Ecthelion blinked at him, before tearing up once more.

“You must really love her. I- she is lucky, if a son of Fëanor swears an oath to stay by her side. May I- may I think this over and speak with my husband?”

“Of course, sir. Are you- are you alright?” Caranthir asked. Ecthelion nodded.

“Yes, I- it’s just the baby- oh, damn it to the Void. I hadn’t meant to tell anyone. Glorfindel doesn’t even know yet. Please don’t tell anyone,” he said. 

Caranthir nodded. He could deal with this. It was only the love of his life’s father who mistrusted him, but was also pregnant, had just been knocked over, was crying and also the pregnancy was a secret for now. Not a big deal.

“Of course. But- I wonder if I might walk you home?” 

“Why?”

“Well- it’s just- sir, you seem rather upset and in your condition-,”

“My condition is completely fine! Laitar and Ilvanë both came into the world completely well!”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise, sir.” Caranthir says, although he is concerned either way. Ecthelion seems to consider him for a moment.

“Okay, fine. You can walk me home. But if you say anything to my husband-,”

“You’ll kill me. Presumably slowly and painfully.”

“Yes.”

Caranthir, despite himself, laughs. Ecthelion smiles, and he thinks that perhaps, he will get his blessing very soon.


End file.
